


Coffee and Snow Flavored Kisses

by themoonandotherslikeit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cute, F/M, Fingering, Fluff, Love, Mutual Pinning, Oral, Romance, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21642712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themoonandotherslikeit/pseuds/themoonandotherslikeit
Summary: On a cold winter day Dean Winchester walks into a quaint coffee shop where he met a woman like hes never met before.
Relationships: Dean Winchester x You, Dean Wnchester x Reader, Dean x You, dean winchester x y/n, dean x Y/N, dean x reader - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	Coffee and Snow Flavored Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> For Kat, I'm sorry it took so long. <3

_"From the first moment that we touched, your arms felt like home." -John Green_

It was really fucking cold out, and Dean was born in Kansas, so that was saying a lot. Sam and Cas had went off on a hunt together leaving him alone with his thoughts, or porn, or fucking  _ whatever _ . 

So just to spite them, he went out into the freezing crisp December air to… do what? He hadn’t exactly decided, but it’d show them that they shouldn’t leave him behind! He was stable. Michael was out of his melon and things were cherry. For now, at least. 

No matter how many times he said he was good, they’d still look at him with those goddamn puppy eyes, and he couldn’t fucking stand it anymore. They were all batting eyelashes and pouty lips like they expected him to reach out and kiss them. Fuck that. He was fine. 

Well he  _ was  _ fine, now he’s just fucking cold. 

He’d driven to a town that seemed to have a case. It was a long shot, but fuck they had driven out for less. Turned out, though, that it was a moot point. Regular old murder. Nothin’ for him. So he walked down the middle of the street secretly hoping to be mowed down by a passing car, honestly anything to put him out of his cold, bored misery. 

There were no cars in the tiny town, or if there were they were somewhere sensible, like parked in garages. The town didn’t even seem to have a  _ bar.  _ He should always check that before deciding to take a case.  _ Any town without a bar deserves a little havoc _ , he decided. 

He shoved his chapped fingers deep into his pockets and glanced around for anything to use up his time, because no matter how miserable he was out in the cold, it wasn’t even a quarter of as miserable as he’d been staring at the wall inside of the bunker. He was seconds from jabbing his own eyes out for something to do. 

A glowing open sign caught his eye and he jogged up, expecting to find  _ another  _ antique store— how many does one town need? To his surprise, he stumbled upon a quaint little coffee shop, and damn he could use a cup. He pushed open the front door, causing the bell tied to the top to jingle. 

It was already decked out in Christmas, much like the rest of the town had been. Sparkling lights seemed to dance along the edges of the room, draping against traditional garland adorned with red bows. There was even a Christmas tree a little too close to the fireplace. The scent of freshly brewed coffee floated through the air and touched his nose.  _ Fuck that’s good.  _ Dean was a traditionalist. He preferred the shitty gas station coffee that he’d grown up in, but he couldn’t help the tingle that went up his spine as he took in the different notes of baked goods and strong black coffee. This wasn’t the shitty stuff, nah, this was some fucking Presidential coffee. Some goddamn royalty coffee. This was some five-dollar-a-cup coffee, and damn it, he was going to indulge. 

The warm air was wrapping around him, snaking around him, caressing his skin, and he embraced it. He took his hands out of his pockets and placed them, red and swollen from the cold air, onto the counter. Due to his distraction from the warmth, coffee smell, and  _ Christmas  _ that he’d been hit with when he walked in, he hadn’t noticed her. Her back was to him, a bow tied at her waist from the apron. She was cleaning the machine, or swapping out the coffee, it looked complicated from where he was standing, but maybe that was just because she was spilling black liquid and coffee beans  _ everywhere.  _

“Shit,” she muttered, her hands trying her best to plug up the hole that seemed to be the result of the spilling liquid. 

“Hey, you good?” Dean asked, unable to hide his growing amusement. 

“Fuck-- I’m fine. Sorry, I’ll be with you in just a second!” 

It was pretty obvious that she was trying her best customer service voice in the midst of a seriously chaotic situation, and Dean commended her for that. 

“Looks like you’ve got a mess. Can I help you?” 

“No! I mean… I’m fine, sir, just… just wait a second.” As she spoke, he could see the coffee spilling over her fingers and down her forearms, covering her white button up. She laughed as if she was saying  _ silly me, so clumsy!  _ Instead of whatever string of curses was likely going through her mind.

_ Fuck it,  _ he thought, hopping over the counter. He stood behind her, looking down at her small stature. She was short compared to him-- most people were short compared to him, but that wasn’t the point. He caught her eyes through a pair of glasses that were sliding down her nose, and damn it they looked really cute, which surprised him. 

“Here, I got it.” Dean leaned down and grabbed a towel, placing his hand, and the towel over hers effectively, if only temporarily, plugging up the leak. She slipped her hand out from under the towel and just stared at her coffee stained palms dumbly, like she wasn’t sure what to do now that hot coffee wasn’t spilling all over her. “Maybe you should unplug the machine?” He asked, feeling his eyebrow tug upwards in amusement. 

His words seemed to snap her back to reality and her eyes widened, and she nodded quickly, wiping her hands on her apron. “Right, uh, sorry.” Once her hands were dried she pulled the plug on the coffee machine and it gurgled a few times before all of the lights sputtered out like a dying star. 

“Is there a piece missing here?” He asked her, looking around. The entire back area was flooded with coffee. Their shoes were in several inches of standing coffee that sloshes around as they moved. Suddenly he wanted a cup a little less. Just a little. 

“The spout,” she stated with a hint of annoyance. She reached into the sink and pulled it out, sort of waving it at him. “It was stupid, I’m just distracted.” 

“I get it,” he said, because he did. He’d been misplacing shit, burning his bacon on the stove, and forgetting why he’d entered a room for months. He’d had an arc angel in his melon that he could use as an excuse, but being absentminded wasn’t exactly something remarkable. “Must’ve heard me comin’ down the street.” He flashed a shit-eating grin, that he knew from experience came off as charming. 

Her cheeks tinted pink, but her eyes narrowed. “What?” 

“I just…” He stumbled over his words. The daggers in her eyes caught him off guard. 

“No, I get it. You’re gorgeous, and I’m sure you’re used to having girls fawn all over you.” 

_ Well, kinda _ , he thought, with an embarrassment that settled deep in his gut. Who the fuck did he think he was?

He reached behind his head and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Shit, well, you’re right. Sorry. I’m not in my head either,” he admitted. “Just used to bein’ out there.” He gestured lamely to the general world outside of the tiny coffee shop. “I’m not tryin’ to be a jackass.” 

“It just comes natural, doesn’t it?” 

“Kinda.” He offered her a grin and a shrug. 

She exhaled, rolling her eyes, and her gaze softened a bit. “I should clean up.” She gestured to the floor with a grimace. 

“Let me help.” He didn’t know why he offered. Maybe it was the fact that she saw through his bullshit instantly, or maybe he just knew how it felt to look down at a big fucking mess of his own making and have to clean it up. 

“You don’t have--”

“I know,” Dean said, holding up a hand to cut her off. “But I want to. Fuck, I ain’t got any better plans.” 

“Okay, okay, fine. You can help.” She held up her hand to wave him off, like it wasn’t a big deal, and that was when he saw her palms. They were red and already blistering. 

“Fuck,” he said, grabbing her wrist to examine it. “You really just put your hands on that hot coffee with no kind of protection?” 

“I was trying to stop it,” she murmured. 

They were a breath apart, and he ran his index finger along the burns carefully. She winced in response. “I need to get this cleaned.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“Yeah, you’ll be fine after I fix it.” 

As if it were second nature, Dean put his hands on her waist and lifted her onto the counter. He heard her gasp as he lifted her, like the breath was pulled right from her body. When he turned to look at her he saw her lips parted slightly, and she was looking up at him again through this damn glasses. She looked like some librarian fantasy that he didn’t know that he had. He brushed a strand of hair off her face that had fallen out of her ponytail and tucked it behind her ear. “Where’s the first aid kit?” 

She pointed with a red blistering finger, and he nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. He peeled his eyes away from hers and walked to the cabinet that she pointed to, pulling out the kit. It was no monster fight, but hell it felt good to be useful. It felt good to help someone. 

He walked back to her and opened up the box. “I’m gonna clean it, get some burn ointment on it, and bandage it. Then I’m gonna clean up the spill, because you should rest your hands.” 

“Thank you…” Her mouth opened and her eyes faltered, looking down and causing those glasses to slip down her nose again. 

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile and he pushed them up her nose with his index finger. “It’s Dean.” 

“Dean,” she murmured as if trying it out on her tongue. Sounded damn good to him. Not an ounce of pity in her voice, feigned concern, or irritation. There was some simple wonder about it, a girl in a coffee shop saying his name. Felt like a fuckin’ movie, felt kinda like fate. “I’m Y/N.” 

“This’ll sting, Y/N,” he said quietly, looking into her eyes, then down at her palm. He pressed the alcohol wipe to the blistering skin, and she hissed a bit from the pain, but didn’t pull her hand back. He rubbed gentle circles on the back of her hand apologetically. “I know that sucks.” 

“It’s fine,” she insisted through gritted teeth. “Worked here for awhile, I’m used to burns.” 

Dean smiled tightly as he applied the ointment. He recognized the dismissal of pain. He did it himself. “Just ‘cause you’re used to it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, Y/N.” 

She exhaled out of her nose, and he glanced up at her. “Pain is irrelevant. It’s just another part of life, like breathing or sex. You take the good with the bad.” 

He was taken aback and by her reaction, so was she. “Good point.” He wrapped the bandage around her hands and secured them into place. “All done.” 

“Thank you, Dean.” 

“No need,” he said dismissively. “Now get comfortable. I’m gonna clean the floors.” He was glad that his boots were virtually waterproof, otherwise he would’ve had wet socks. There was nothing more annoying than soggy socks inside of shoes, especially on an icy day. “So,” he began, grabbing the mop from the corner. “Is it always this fucking cold here?”

“It’s December,” she said flatly, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah, it’s basically always this cold here.”

“How can you stand it?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows. “It feels like the air is pointy.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Fuck, you know what I meant.” 

And then she laughed. She laughed like it was the first funny thing she’d ever heard. She had one of those laughs that was contagious, and before he knew it he was curled over, holding his side and laughing with his entire body. His hand gripped the handle of the mop and the other had migrated, somehow and by no fault of his own, to her thigh. His side ached and burned from laughing and even though it was all slowing down, he was still gripping at it and gasping for breath as the occasional chuckle bubbled up in his throat and escaped his lips. His eyes were brimming with tears. 

She turned from him for a moment, wiping her own eyes, and her whole body changed. “Dean!” She exclaimed in a still-quiet voice. 

“Huh?” 

“This,” she beamed, hopping off of the counter, knocking his hand back to his side. “This is how I can stand the pointy air.” she pushed past him, leaving coffee footprints behind her as she pushed out of the store and onto the street. 

“Hey!” He called after her, the trance seemingly broken. He followed her outside, immediately regretting the decision as the cold air hit his wet sleeves. 

The regret only lasted a moment, though, as he saw her. Her face was turned upward to the sky, her mouth open in a wide smile. Her bandaged palms were turned toward the sky. It was snowing. Large flakes fell languidly from the sky, and the longer they stood, the heavier the snow got. “Look at it,” she said with a single breath. Her breath came out white and thick, freezing in the air around her face, her glasses fogging up in response. “It’s like magic.” 

_ No,  _ he thought sadly,  _ it isn’t.  _ Magic, he knew, was darkness and witches and spewing bodily fluids. It was a pain that honestly no one deserved, but yet, looking at her and her wide smile and foggy glasses, he kind of thought he was wrong. 

“You’re going to freeze to death.” 

“Come here,” Y/N said, waving him to her. 

He walked over to her, and plucked her glasses off of her face. “You can’t even see.” 

“You don’t need to see something to know that it’s beautiful, Dean.” 

His mouth went dry, and he looked down at her and fuck she was beautiful. She was beautiful in a way that was unexpected, in a way that he didn’t catch right away. It wasn’t just surface level in the way that she parted her lips when she was thinking about what to say, or the way her eye color complimented her hair perfectly, or the way her breasts looked in that coffee-stained button up. It was a beauty that almost radiated off of her skin, off her being. He ran his thumb across her cheekbone. “Maybe you’re right. Just haven’t been able to find anything beautiful lately. Until now.” It was a line, he knew that, but he meant it nonetheless. 

Then he kissed her, because what did he have to lose? He kissed her, because fuck he wanted to. She looked like some snow princess with white speckles of snow in her hair and on her eyelashes, melting on her lips. He wanted to taste the snow on her skin, so he held her face and brushed his lips to hers. 

Dean half expected her to pull back and slap him straight in the jaw. It wouldn’t have been the first time. To his surprise, though, she melted into him like the snow on her skin. She tasted like coffee, and her lips were warm despite the icy air. She kissed him back, opening her mouth just slightly so he could taste her more deeply. 

The snow had picked up, it was quickly blanketing the town and the world around them. It gave everything a padding, a layer of silence that seemed to create a bubble just for them. He pulled back a bit, pressing his forehead to hers. Their breath mingled, heavy in the cold air. He could feel himself grinning, and he couldn’t bring himself to care how big of an idiot he looked like. He placed her glasses back on her nose and pressed his lips to her ear. “Let’s go back inside,” he said with a rough whisper. He could feel her cheeks heat up against his own, making his stomach do a flip. 

“Okay,” she said breathlessly. 

As he entered the coffee shop for the second time he didn’t notice the warmth, the crackle of the fire, the sparkling Christmas lights, or the strong scent of coffee. All he saw was her. The bell chimed as they pushed through the door and they were kissing again, lips pulled together in a way that was almost magnetic. 

Dean’s fingers fumbled with the tie on her apron, pulling one of the strings and letting the bow fall apart. She let out a sigh and pulled back from him long enough to discard the apron completely before pulling his mouth back to hers. 

He ran his hands along her waist, slowly memorizing every curve of her body. His lips moved from her lips to her jaw and down her neck, tasting the skin above her pulse. He could feel her heart race under his lips and it made his head spin. He reached up behind her head and let her hair out of its ponytail, spilling it down her neck. “Dean--” she complained, but it only lasted for a second before he stole her breath again, his lips on hers as he began unbuttoning her shirt with deft fingers. 

Each button was a chore, especially since her icy, bandaged hands managed to find their way into his shirt. His stomach muscles tightened under her cold touch, but the electricity between them seemed to spark and catch flame. 

She worked his shirt up and over his head, discarding it and his leather coat to the floor. Her hands were on his skin, running over his chest and down his stomach carefully as if she was memorizing him. 

When he finally released the last button he pulled back to look at her and fuck his breath was knocked right out of his chest. She looked up at him through her glasses and bit down on her bottom lip. Just when he thought she couldn’t be sexier, and she pulls that shy shit? He touched her chin with his index finger, tilting her head back up to look at him. “You’re,” he began, but he didn’t even have the words. He shook his head with a smile, beside himself.

“I’m what?”

“Have you ever seen something that’s just so… so fucking unreal? Fireworks, the northern lights, the stars out in bumfuck nowhere? How do you describe something that fucking gorgeous? You can’t.” He let out a sigh and touched her cheek. “Northern lights ain’t got nothin’ on you.”

And he kissed her again, slowly this time. He kissed her with precision, with purpose. His hands trailed her back, tracing her shoulder blades as they moved under her skin when she wrapped her arms around his neck. His fingers settled at the clasp of her bra easily releasing it with a pinch of his fingers. Her arms dropped from around his neck, her bra falling to the floor between them. He pressed her against him and embraced the warmth of her skin against his. He nudged her back a bit, away from the glass door and the cold of the outside, flipping the open sign to  _ Closed  _ as they passed it, their lips never leaving each others. He supported her back and slowly lowered herself to the floor onto the rug that was near the fire. 

He hovered over her and pulled back long enough to look at her. Her hair was spread out beneath her in messy waves and curls. He pushed one out of her face and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. He liked the way she looked at him. He liked that she didn’t know who he was. He wasn’t Dean Winchester, God’s favorite, Michael’s vessel, Savior of the World, he was just a guy. 

He leaned down and kissed her jaw, down her throat, her collarbone before taking her breast between his lips. The skin was soft and warm, and he groaned as he felt her back arch beneath him. He felt more than useless lately. He couldn’t do anything right, but  _ this _ , this he could do. He slid his hand under her back, supporting her as he sucked and nibbled at her hardening nipple. He left small purple pucker marks along the pale skin, holding the fullest part of her breast in his hand. 

His lips trailed between her breasts and down her stomach. He unbuttoned her jeans, the zipper ripping through the warm air with a metallic  _ zip  _ sound. He watched goosebumps rise on her skin, and her fingers found her way into his hair, massaging his scalp and tugging gently. He worked her pants down her legs, his lips and tongue exploring her skin as soon as it was exposed. He looked down at her, and she looked back at him, completely naked, but somehow he was the one that felt exposed. He suddenly felt like maybe she could see right through him. “Close your eyes,” he commanded roughly, before settling between her legs. 

She didn’t stop looking at him, though. She smiled down at him mischievously. He rolled his eyes in response before nibbling on the skin on her inner thigh. He kissed closer to her core, teasing. He placed soft kisses along her outer lips, tracing her with his tongue. She was warm and sweet, like coffee with too much cream and sugar. 

He heard her suck in her breath as he pulled her legs apart just a bit more. Dean tasted her then, giving her clit a few gentle flicks of his tongue before fucking his tongue into her. He placed her leg on his shoulder to get a better angle and slid two fingers inside of her slowly. He sucked on her clit gently, pulling his fingers out and then pushing them back into her quickly.

He was getting drunk on her. He loved the taste of her, the way her breathing hitched in her throat when he pressed in deeply, the way her thigh twitched on his shoulder. He felt her getting closer, her thigh was twitching madly, and she was grabbing for the carpet so he pulled back. She whined in frusteration. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and crawled up her. 

Y/N took off her glasses and laid them to the side, causing Dean’s stomach to twist. “Don’t do that,” he whispered. “I like you with them on.” 

“We will break them,” she whispered back, her voice completely breathy and wrecked. 

“They’re sexy,” he complained, but she quieted him with an insistent kiss. 

“Fuck me, Dean, or I’m going to finish this myself.” 

The threat was tempting, he had to admit, but he complied nonetheless. 

He slid out of his pants, pulling his wallet out of his pocket to remove a saved condom. After the incident with the Amazon he couldn’t be too careful. He positioned himself over her, looking down at her one last time before he pressed his lips to hers. He pumped his finegrs into her a few more times before he pressed inside of her completely. He let out a frusterated breath as he felt her inner walls squeeze around him. 

He pulled his face back from the kiss and looked at her. He moved and watched her lips twitch at every movement that he made. She gasped as he pressed into her deeper, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, almost to pull him closer to her. As if they could be any closer than they already were. It’d been too long since he’d been with anyone. Michael had been in his head, and he couldn’t risk it. It was too fucking much. But now, as she flipped them over, he knew he was fucking done for. 

She rolled her hips, her hands on his chest, and he was fucking seeing stars. Heat rolled thorugh him as she picked up speed. He ran his hands up her body, memorizing her curves. 

Good things only last for a moment, a breath, a  _ second,  _ and fuck, sometimes he didn’t even get that long. His life wasn’t exactly rainbows and sprinkles. He didn’t get to be with women like this. There was something about her that was fucking different than anyone he’d ever met. So he flipped her over, and he met her eyes, pulling her knees up to his chest. His eyes never left hers as he sent them both over the edge, his hips pumping and his thumb rubbing circles on her clit. 

“Fuck  _ Dean, _ ” she gasped out. He pumped into her slowly before pulling out and discarding his condom to the trash. He laid down next to her on his back in front of the fire. She rolled over and rested her head on his chest. 

Dean stroked the length of her hair, twisting it in his fingers. There was an ache deep in his chest that he couldn’t quite place, and he pulled her closer, as if she could fill all of the holes within him. “Maybe we should finish cleaning up the coffee,” he finally said, breaking the silence. 

“I don’t care about the coffee, Dean,” she said, propping herself back up. She looked at him with serious eyes. She searched his face for something, and by the pained look that was painted on her face, he gathered she found it. “You’re leaving.” 

“I’m always leaving,” he said sadly. “Don’t stay in one place too long.” 

“But today…” 

“Today is what you want from me, Y/N. Trust me. You don’t want the rest. Let me just be a good memory for you. Fuck I hope it was good memory.”

“It was good,” she said softly. “It’s still good.” 

She kissed him slowly, her hands on either side of his face. 

It was probably for the best that he was going, because he knew deep inside of him that if he could stay that he would never leave. He would fall in love with her, and Dean Winchester didn’t get to fall in love. He’d tried, and it wasn’t in the cards. “I’m sorry,” he said against her lips. “Let me clean up the coffee. Let me just do this one good thing.” 

“I know I don’t know you well,” she said, her eyebrows coming together. “But I can tell things about people.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can tell that think you’re worse than you actually are. You’re a good man, Dean. I can see that from a mile away. I don’t have any kind of illusion for what this is.” She gestured to the limited space between them. “But I do hope that you’ll find a way to be happy someday, with someone.” She reached out and touched his cheek, brushing his cheekbone gently with her thumb. 

He closed his eyes, and tried with everything inside of him to hold it together. “Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking a bit. “Me too.” 

The shop smelled like coffee and sex. It felt warm and safe. He could hear the crackle from the fire, and the sound of her breathing. It felt calm, it felt perfect, but it felt a little fucking hopeless too. He knew that he would go back to the bunker and sleep alone in the cold and think about her. In those moments in the darkness he will always remember exactly what the shop smelled like, the sounds he heard, and how he felt. The memory will be preserved perfectly, deep within his mind where nothing and no one can reach within him and pluck it from his mind. It will be protected within his mind and his heart like a locked safe that not even his own dark thoughts could penetrate, and there would be the place that he can love her where she will never be hurt, where they can never be broken. 


End file.
